Homily for January 25, 2015: 3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

El Capitan by Mike Murphy / Wikipedia 

People must have thought they were crazy.

Seven years ago, when rock climbers Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgenson began planning to scale Yosemite’s El Capitan, people said it couldn’t be done. Caldwell and Jorgenson proposed climbing the sheer wall, or Dawn Wall, using nothing but their own skill and strength. Ropes would be there to catch them, but that was it. It would take days to climb the 3,000-foot rock face—and again and again, they were told it was impossible.

But two weeks ago, Tommy Caldwell and Kevin Jorgenson did the impossible. In 19 days, they made the first “free climb” of the Dawn Wall—using only their hands and feet to reach the summit.

After achieving this incredible feat, they were asked what message this might send to the world.

Jorgenson told NBC News:

“I hope people take the time to find their own Dawn Wall, if you will, and use this project as an example of what you can achieve when you dream big and don’t give up.”

Yes: people must have thought they were crazy.

And I think the same could be said of the men we encounter in today’s gospel: people must have thought they were crazy—or maybe just stupid.

An itinerant preacher passes by on the seashore, and these fishermen drop everything to follow him. They abandon their income, their security, their families—they set out, so to speak, without any ropes—and begin the greatest “free climb” adventure in history. They set out to scale mountains they never imagined.

They would, like Caldwell and Jorgenson, know fear and disappointment, uncertainty and dread. Climbing mountains is like that.

But so is a life of faith.

It takes tenacity—and it takes trust. Trust in God. But also trust in one another.

Caldwell and Jorgenson knew they couldn’t scale El Capitan solo. Jesus knew his disciples couldn’t do it alone, either—which I think is why he first called them two by two: Andrew and Simon, James and John.

In this gospel, we’re reminded again how the commitment of the first apostles was total. One phrase always stands out for me whenever I encounter this reading:

“They abandoned their nets and followed him.”

They walked away from a job, a livelihood. I don’t think they asked Jesus about his dental plan or his 401 (k) or paid vacation.

They just went.

They left what they knew – and went into what they didn’t know, to live differently.

Can you imagine doing anything like that today?

We should. Because whether we realize it or not, that is the choice facing each of us. All of us are like those first followers of Christ.

Not all of us, of course, are fishermen.

But we all have nets.

Sometimes, they are strong and hold us together.

But sometimes, they are flimsy and hold us back.

Those nets are the world we know and what we are comfortable with. Those things that we’re used to – and that may be keeping us from becoming true followers of Christ.

They are the kinds of nets in which we, ourselves, are entangled. Bad habits, familiar patterns, comfortable ways of thinking and behaving.
Sin can be a net. So can laziness. Selfishness.

There is the net of addiction. Of anger.

There is the net of cynicism and a hardened heart.

But the call of Christ calls us to look deeply at our own habits, and our own hearts. What are the nets in our lives that we need to leave behind? What are the tangled webs that are holding us back?

Are we willing to abandon them – and follow him?

This morning, we continue what they began. That first call of the fishermen has echoed around the world, many times over. And so believers gather as we are gathering today, in community, to share together our love for God, our love for one another, our passion for the gospel message. We proclaim what we believe, and we lift our eyes to a miracle: God in a piece of elevated bread.

The body of Christ is uplifted.

And so are we.

But it will be meaningless if we just go home and go on with our lives.

Like Simon and Andrew and James and John, we are called to leave our old ways of doing things. Ultimately, we are called to walk away … and to follow him.

It is a call to sacrifice, to surrender, to trust, to change.

It is a call to do what others might consider crazy—but what we know in our hearts is the sanest choice of all.

That is: the choice to follow Christ and live the gospel.

The kingdom of God is at hand, Jesus proclaimed. It can be ours.

So: drop your nets.

There are mountains waiting to be climbed.